


Starnights

by frostae, sonderhasmeterrified



Series: Starnights [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Art, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Camping, Constellations, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression, Driving, Drunk Driving, Español | Spanish, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Foreshadowing, Gay Keith (Voltron), Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Inspired by Music, Italiano | Italian, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) Has Panic Attacks, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Kissing in the Rain, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Mild Smut, Music, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Orphan Keith (Voltron), POV Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Rain, Slow Burn, Smoking, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Stars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-09-06 21:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20297911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostae/pseuds/frostae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonderhasmeterrified/pseuds/sonderhasmeterrified
Summary: Rain. Driving. Music. Stars. Weed. Love - everything two young boys find themselves entangled in, everything that matters to them at this point of their lives. A slow, beautiful journey into sorting problems, and having someone by your side to help you through them.





	1. Launch

**Author's Note:**

> Keith meets a handsome boy from his old college in a parking lot really early in the morning. They drive around together and develop a bond over common tastes in music – and weed.

It’s raining. 

It’s always raining.

He feels it on his eyelashes first, looking up and inviting the diminutive raindrops onto his face. His hair’s wet and so is the shirt on his torso - he doesn’t mind, not at all, but he has groceries and he needs to get to his car. Except Keith can’t help but fall for the sky every time it weeps; it’s become a big – nay – important part of his life. It was, after all, one of the main reasons he was so inclined to move to New Orleans, because of the fact that it was monsoon here practically all year. All the more reason for him to stay in. All the more reason for him to – God, finally - buy a car and get rid of his old Harley Davidson Freewheeler. And yet, he couldn’t help but remain old school, deciding to drive a 2018 Ford Mustang GT with fervor. Driving was integral. He’d be unstable without it. 

But none of that really mattered when he got kicked out of the Atlas Institute of Fine Arts for… his discernible behavior, to put it lightly. Despite being kicked out, though, he never felt the need to go back. He was doing more than just okay financially, given his exquisite talent. He was a renowned artist, albeit not among people that would fall in his age or interest group. But despite the ‘bright’ aspects of life, he had a mind that insisted he remained unhappy. 

He didn’t really have a say in it, and so the rain eventually became his friend. It would cry with him and wouldn’t judge him for doing it... But it only came second to hash. Weed, hash, cannabis, dope, hemp – whatever you wanna call it, was essential. No hash, no ‘fervor’. The spiraling would begin. He couldn’t even sleep it off, given his chronic insomnia, and he didn’t believe in his meds. His therapist could only do so much, but the rest was up to him – or rather, to the tiny bundle of joints pressed against his thigh in his jean pocket.

He began walking a little faster towards his car. It was around one in the moring, a common time for him to wander about looking for spots with enough aesthetic potential to paint and sell. He was presently in the parking lot of a musty 24/7 grocery store, except it wasn’t just him – a couple of Junior jocks he recognized from the Atlas were a few spots away, mildly intoxicated and laughing brashly about whatever jargon alcohol made them spew at this time of the night. 

Except… among them was a boy he’d never seen before. He wished he’d seen him sooner, much sooner and under different circumstances, because this boy was perhaps the most beautiful individual Keith had laid his eyes on in a long, long time.

But… what was the point anyway?

He didn’t care enough to linger and stare, though, and instead kept progressing towards his car. He’d managed to make the slightest, most careful eye contact with the boy, but he didn’t think it was anything enough for him to have noticed. He set his groceries down in the trunk of his car and stood under the shade of a bus stop right next to the lamp post near his parking spot. Lighting a joint, he leaned against the tacky, glowing advertisement for ceramic braces, and closed his eyes, breathing in the petrichor and breathing out his predicaments. 

He heard the obnoxious laughter die down after some time, and soon enough, he was all alone in the lot. He didn’t want to stay any longer, anyway - driving was much better. 

He heard footsteps sound around him, and, refusing to open his eyes, he simply continued minding his business when he heard someone’s dulcet tones sound right next to him. “Hey,” he said, while Keith opened his eyes and glanced to his right, towards the source of the voice. It was the pretty boy. Keith couldn’t figure for the life of him what he’d want from him –

“Could I light one?” – oh.

Keith raised his eyebrow in question but nevertheless pulled one out, handing it to him. Before he could offer his lighter, the slightly taller boy was already lighting it with his own and puffing his first smoke. Keith had begun to feel the distant tingle of the high in his nerve-ends, and he embraced the numb that arrived, losing about twenty five percent of his coherent thinking. That was okay. That was normal. 

The boy next to him was starting to look even prettier with every passing moment. After several moments passed, Keith began to wondering why this random – though, undoubtedly, extremely attractive – guy was standing next to him in such a close proximity at almost two in the morning in an empty parking lot. 

It almost made him uneasy.  
He let the relieving waves of the herb wash over him, all the while sneaking glances at the boy next to him. His skin was dark, completely smooth, coppery and beautiful. His hair was dark too, short, only a couple strands framing his forehead. He wondered what his name was, what his story was. He wanted to know him. And then –

“Your ride back there? Pretty goddamn sleek.” Keith could only nod in response, too unsure of himself to speak yet. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” a puff of smoke leaving his mouth, “Could I hitch a ride?”  
Keith didn't really know what to make of this, except he knew letting a total stranger in his car this late was a terrible idea. But then again... what really could go wrong?  
It was almost as if the other boy read his mildly panicked expression. 

“Oh, uh, I go to the same college as you. The Atlas, right?”  
A pause. When Keith still hesitated to answer, “You can drop me off wherever you like..?” he said, and Keith gave in. It's just a few minutes. Nothing could go wrong. If luck was on his side, some things might just go right. 

Soon they were walking towards Keith’s car. As both of them climbed in, the boy asked, “Would you mind music?” Keith shook his head no. As he turned on the engine, the player blasted Chlorine by Twenty Øne Piløts, mid-song. 

“You like 'em too?!” the boy exclaimed, looking at Keith wide-eyed. His eyes, oh god, his eyes were beautiful. It was dark and Keith could only see them under the light shone on them by the streetlights. He hadn't managed to get a good look at them before, but now they were definitely blue, and intense and… tired? This boy didn't look like he'd slept in a long while, specially now given that it was 2 in the morning. Why was he still out? Keith never came across anyone who'd stay up as late as him for no apparent reason.

“They're easily my favorite band out there. Have been for a couple years now. I don't usually come across people who like them as much as me though…” Keith spoke, for the first time. “You can change it to whatever.”

“No no, no, I love them too. I… grew up with them, more or less.” The boy started humming along to the song. He was really good. Only a few moments later he was singing along, to Chlorine and the next song and the next… Keith couldn't say he minded it at all because he could listen to him sing all night. He wasn't a good singer himself, but soon found himself humming along to Legend while his shotgun sang every lyric perfectly. The moment Keith began humming, the boy whipped his head towards him, giving him the brightest toothed grin. It made Keith want to brush his fingers against the boy’s cheeks, so plump and flushed. He was also aching to ask him for his name, but he wasn't sure he wanted anything else to do with him yet. 

“Where are you headed?” Keith asked after about an hour had passed, turning the music down a little. They'd been driving endlessly and neither of them really seemed to mind. The boy was actually enjoying himself, just like Keith. They'd ended up singing Smithereens together, Keith was grateful for the darkness because of which the other couldn't see his blush darkening.  
“Like I said, anywhere you want. But we're right next to my street, so if you wouldn't mind…?” he asked sheepishly, flinching as if bracing for a harsh rejection.  
Keith shook his head, “I don't mind. It's late, you don't need to walk around at this hour.”  
The boy only smiled gratefully in response. Keith stored the sweet smile in his head for later. 

They were soon pulling up at the front of the boy's house. As he got off, he thanked Keith. “This was… actually really fun. I don't really get much sleep, so this was a good way to spend my time. Unfortunately, I don't have a car, but I understand why you do this,” he said, gesturing his hands towards the steering wheel and the player. “I get it.” he smiled again. A knowing smile. As he walked to the other side, Keith rolled down his window, “Hey! What's your name?”

“Lance,” He stopped to turn around and walk to Keith's window. Leaning down to his level, he asked him, “and you're…?” with a genuinely curious look in his eyes. Keith can only grin at this point, “Does it matter? Maybe you'll find out if we do this again.” Pleased with himself, he didn't even wait for Lance to stand up straight before driving off, watching the boy lose his balance behind him and flip Keith off in his rearview mirror. But at least Lance was grinning too.

Keith really did want to see him again.


	2. Stabilising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith can't stop thinking about those blue eyes while Lance spends all day thinking about nothing else but the violet ones.

* * *

Lance couldn’t believe he'd managed to convince the boy with the violet eyes – fucking _violet_ eyes – to let him hitch a ride. Did that display an error in judgement that Lance shouldn't let pass? And maybe his eyes were so black they appeared violet? Fuck, _eyes_ aren't something he needs to spend his hours thinking about.

It was beyond him how he’d managed to overcome his anxiety and ask him for a joint. Hell, he’d stopped smoking long ago. Well… not so long ago. He knew well enough that starting again wasn’t going to end well, but goddamn was it worth the hour-long ride at 2 in the morning with the boy with sweetest voice he'd heard.

Barely half-a-second of eye-contact at that parking lot and he couldn’t get his mind off of the guy.

_**Dios**_.*

He found himself thinking over and over about his pale, glowing skin, pitch black hair and the outdated mullet, his sharp jaw… hell, did these things even matter? Trivial details that he would otherwise never notice in any guy or girl. Mullets aren't a nice hair choice - a _terrible_ one, even - but damn did it look good on _him._

His voice, oh, his voice _especially_ when he sang along to Smithereens with Lance. Maybe it was the high of the hash or his usual lack of sleep, Lance highly doubted he’d even remember the encounter the next day… but when he woke up? Boom- It was right in front of his eyes.

It wasn’t as if he’d never seen the boy around before, they used to go to the same college, after all. But he hadn’t seen him in a pretty long time. He'd never noticed anything intricate about him until last night, he just knew that they'd had Studio Art classes together until he just… stopped showing up. Not just to class, but to college altogether. 

If there was just one other thing he knew about that guy – he was an insanely brilliant artist. The best in the entire college, that was clear, and everyone knew. Lance had never interacted with him before, but he’d always try and catch a glimpse of his process during classes. He wasn’t too good at watercolors himself, but the porcelain-skinned boy's work never failed to inspire him.

Lance spent all day thinking about last night. He _needed_ to see him again. He _needed_ to know his name. The _nerve_ of that guy! Lance even tried guessing what his name might be – Zach? Jason? _Daniel_? Gosh, he looked nothing like those.

By the time lunch break came around, the guy had literally become Lance’s food for thought. Waiting for nightfall was making Lance incredibly impatient. He had a plan to wait at the parking lot again, though why someone would show up to a grocery store two nights in a row was a slight detail he was willing to overlook.

And nightfall did arrive_**. Finalmente**** _

Lance made a flimsy excuse to relieve himself of his friends' company and headed to the same grocery store. He waited under the same bus stand from last night, the one facing the main road so he’d know to look for a dark red mustang. It wasn’t hard to miss around here. He really _did_ think it was fancy as hell.

Nobody came. It was nearly 1 in the morning. He'd been waiting for about – shit – 20 minutes. Maybe the other guy had just been having one of those rare sleepless nights last night, in which case, Lance was wasting his time. At least he had his own stash tonight. '_Stash_' he says… just a couple joints.

He was getting too close to losing hope and his anxiety wasn’t helping him _at all_. Like a mole digging it’s way up to the surface, that voice in the back of his mind was reaching the tipping point – it wouldn't shut up.

**_ He's not going to be here. He doesn't even remember you. You don't leave a lasting impression anyway. It's 1am. ONE IN THE MORNING! Vete a casa vete a casa vete a casa.*** Smoke one smoke one right now you know this’ll stop right away if you do it do it do i-_**

Shaking his head out of _it_ and his hair outta the _water_ – it was raining again, the never-ending bastard - Lance took a deep breath and walked to the narrow alleyway right next to the grocery store. Hands mildly trembling, partly from the cold and partly from the nausea induced by his ‘anxiety’ voice, he lit his first joint.

He'd only moved here less than a year ago. He wasn't close to… anybody, except his reflection. No body knew, or noticed, or even _cared_ that this is how he'd get sometimes. Most times. He couldn't explain to anybody just how much he was missing his home. His **_familia_**. But there was no point dwelling on any of those things anymore. They were all the way there. He was here. He needed to study (which he wasn’t, not as much as he needed to, at least), make a career, focus on himself… whilst also escaping himself. It was a tiring process, he didn't even know what he wanted to actually purs-

“Keith.”

Lance was immediately broken out of his reverie, hearing the same voice as last night. He could tell, he didn't need to look up and he stood there, fixated on the white and black shoes in front of his.

“What did you say?” Lance inquired, finally looking up into the same eyes that had been bearing their way into his mind all day.

“My name's Keith.” He extended his hand, offering a shake. He had the most careful hints of a smile playing on his lips, his eyes were determined.

“Finally, dude! I can't believe you left me hanging last night-“ Lance started, shaking his hand. Fingerless leather gloves. Huh.

“You're not here by happenstance, are you?”

Lance froze. He _severely_ needed to not look uncool right now. Trying to not make it obvious, he managed to shrug it off, pulling his game face on and chuckled, explaining himself, “What do you mean? I’m just lighting up here-“

Keith let out a little '_heh_' before running a hand through his drenched mop of hair and shaking his head lightly, “You're here by _design_. I _thought_ I saw you walking back while I was on my way here.”

Lance perked his eyebrow up. “Why are you here, at a grocery store, two nights in a row?”

It was _Keith's_ turn to get creative. He was far better at it than Lance, at least. “Forgot some ingredients I was meant to get yesterday. You, on the other hand, have no reason to be here.” Keith was almost smiling now.

Lance stopped leaning against the brick wall behind him and stood up straight, throwing his arms halfway up in the air, “What, a guy can't smoke a little? In an alleyway which would seem like the perfect place to be alone? At… one… in the morning…??”

He was losing it. **_Mierda_**.***

“I'm not judging you - _Lance_, was it?” smirking, Keith just wouldn't lay off of the guy. Lance opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get anything out Keith put both his palms in front of him, “Just pulling your leg, man. Whaddya say…?” Jabbing his thumbs over his shoulder, Keith was indicating perhaps another drive, and Lance was having trouble containing himself because _boy_ did he want that.

Playing it cool and casual, Lance only tugged the corners of his mouth down, shrugging as if to say he doesn't mind, when really he couldn't comprehend his chances. He promised himself he wouldn’t let the other guy play him like last night. Out of all the names he could come up with, _Keith_ wasn’t something he imagined would go with the shorter boy. But surprisingly it was all Lance could imagine himself calling him.

They started for Keith's car, Lance trailing right behind him. Patting his hair here and fixing his jacket there - not gonna lie, he felt mildly stupid. Where does he think this was going to go? What was he expecting out of a situation as unlikely as this? He needed to get these thoughts to take a backseat and focus on getting in the car at the moment.

Settling in, ready to ask the question, Lance was beaten to it by a sheepish yet hopeful Keith -

“Do you mind music?”

And suddenly, they were both grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for uploading this late, it's been a hell of a few weeks.  
chapter 3 will be on its way sooner than you think :)  
let me know your thoughts in the comments!
> 
> *God  
**Finally  
***Go Home  
****Shit


	3. Momentum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altercations already?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read the bottom notes.

Was Keith ever going to be able to get over the fact that he had this guy - Lance - sitting right next to him in his car, who also happened to be the most beautiful goddamn individual he'd laid his eyes on, ever? 

It didn't seem likely. He'd revel in it as long as he could manage, but somewhere… it wasn't going to last, and he knew. He knew he wasn't lucky enough to get caught up in the start of something new, something potentially _giving_ , as in that which would give back to _him._ He'd always been the giver, never having experienced the receiving end. Friendships, romance, family – maybe, _maybe_ not that last one, but it was a constant he'd grown to accept. Or… _tolerate_, rather. 

Suffices to say, his expectations weren't high at all. Hell, he didn't have any. He was just enjoying himself while he still could.

“_Please_ tell me you've heard this song, or I'm going to have to jump outta this car.” Lance threatened playfully, while putting on [I'm so Tired](https://youtu.be/fvjpE_wFL5A) by Lauv on the MP3 player.

“Lance, mention _one_ person who hasn't heard that song? It's been what, half a year? I _am_ pretty damn tired of that song, so if you don't mind-“ Keith said while reaching out to change the track. 

“_Precisely_! It's been so long, and this song doesn't deserve to be forgotten, so you're going to listen to it, and that's that-“

“This is _MY_ car!”

“This was _MY_ idea! Also, it's raining! _And_ we're driving! It's the perfect opportunity to enjoy it.”

Keith whipped his head, eyebrows scrunched and annoyance dripping clear from his expression, towards Lance who was already staring at him incredulously, “Enjoy it for the gazillionth time? I'll pass. Also, _I’m_ driving. Also, it's _always_ raining. _Also_, what are you, trying to recreate the music video?” Keith's hand was dangerously close to changing the song, only to be swatted away by Lance's frantic fingers.

“Look, I like this song. A lot. Would you _please_ let it play this _one_ time?” Lance stared at Keith, truly upset by the fact that Keith didn't want to listen to this particular over-played song. Keith didn't get it at first, so he just sighed and let it play. Lance let out a satisfied breath next to him, turning to look outside the window.

From the little glances Keith could steal at him, Lance looked mildly disturbed by their minor argument still, and Keith couldn't help but feel guilty looking at his expression. It was... scared. No, the aftermath of scared. Keith knew he wasn't the most pleasant to converse with, but did he really manage to upset him so much?

He suddenly felt absolutely _repulsed_ by the idea of having caused this guy, whom he's never known, some form of discomfort and he found himself thinking of ways to fix it before he could even comprehend what he was doing. 

Almost involuntarily, he was increasing the volume, just a little, stubbornly looking straight ahead even when he could feel Lance's eyes on him, when he could feel a silent thanks passing from Lance's lips. 

The immediate change in Lance's expression was enough to allow Keith to release the tension from his body, and Keith didn't like that. At all. How a random (albeit _gorgeous_) dude could influence his behavior this intensely was a thought that completely went over Keith’s head. 

Softly shaking his head out of his thoughts, he noticed the other boy lighting a joint. Maybe he should stop somewhere? They _could_ use a little weed right about now. The problem was that it was raining so heavily, he couldn’t think of anywhere to stop. He didn’t want to circle back to the grocery store, because firstly it was too far, and secondly the bus stop wasn’t nearly convenient enough to enjoy a smoke at. 

All he could do, for now, was drive. Drive endlessly. Keith was the kind of guy who was always unbothered by his surroundings, paying attention to only what could directly influence him. Rain was one of those things. The sound of his wrapped up canvases lightly clinking against the doors of the car was another one of those things. Lance's breathing was one of thos- ? No? _That_ wasn’t supposed to be on the list.

Maybe he needed to stop after all.

“There's a diner, Chuck's, I'm sure you've been there, that I want to stop at. Would you mind?”

“I wouldn't, except it's,” Lance checked the time on his watch, “past two in the _morning_. Think they'll entertain us?”

“It’s open 24\7.”

“Then we're good. I could use a shake right now, actually.”

Keith nodded lightly and made a left at the next cross-junction, only a couple minutes away from the place. The diner didn't exactly appreciate smoking but no one ever checked the washroom. And Lance wanted a milkshake apparently. ‘Twas a win-win. 

Speaking of the time, how in the _world_ was Lance still okay with being up this late? Maybe he had insomnia too, after he'd mentioned last night that he 'doesn't really get much sleep’? In which case, Keith was both mildly irritated and surprised that they hadn't met sooner. He kept thinking he'd seen him from somewhere, but he would've remembered a face like that if he was familiar with it. Shrugging it off, he parked in front of the dinner. 

He started for the diner without waiting for Lance, and as soon as he heard him shut the door behind him he locked the car. Lance was quick to catch up with him. 

“What'll you have?” Lance asked, looking up at the menu above the cash counter, hands in his jacket pockets. The same brown jacket he was wearing the previous night, with yellow stripes across the sleeves. Keith couldn't blame him, he almost never took his red and white cropped jacket off either, not unless he was working on something.

“A smoke. You can knock yourself out, though.” Keith said dismissively, waving his hand in Lance's generic direction as he made his way towards the washroom. 

He had nothing against Lance, he had way too much for him instead. He needed to get away from that, and so obviously, he’d made a mental note to never let himself get close. 

** _Damn it, Keith! It's been a day. You're pushing him away from what? Your non-existent walls? How did you manage to push someone away when he's known you for less than a business day and hasn't even made it to the definition of ‘close’? And congratulations on giving him a free sample of your temper beforehand, and for insulting his taste in music, and-_ **

Keith _really_ needed that joint. Now was not a good time to spiral. 

And so he hurried, making it inside the washroom before Lance had even managed to order his shake. Immediately sitting inside the last stall, he lit one up and leaned his head back against the stained tiles, relaxing for a little bit. 

He knew he'd told Lance he was going for a smoke but leaving him out there for too long would seem downright rude, which he really wasn't going for. He finished quickly, briefly debating whether he should go for a second one, but decided against it. 

When he walked outside he saw Lance, Lance looking out the window of the diner, idly sipping his shake – _vanilla_, nice – lost in thought with a light blush creeping over his cheeks. Keith wanted to stay there, by the door of the washroom, and stare at him. Stare at his soft-looking hair, moonlight illuminating the outline of his side profile, his lips slowly taking in the shake.

He’d stare at him until daybreak if he could, but all he really did was quietly make his way onto Lance's table and sit across him with his hands crossed over his chest. Defensive, as always, and never against anything particularly offensive. 

Lance then looked at Keith, a small simper on his face.

“Are you sure you don't want anything?” Lance asked, mouth still around the straw, drinking continuously. Keith was _trying_ to not stare, so he fixed his gaze onto the salt shaker on the table in front of him, shaking his head faintly. 

Lance only shrugged softly, looking back outside again. 

“I'm sorry.” Keith couldn't stop himself. His brain wasn't communicating with his mouth directly and he hated it when his tongue grew a mind of its own.

“What?" Lance assuredly looked confused, as if Keith had just mistaken his shake for a burger, "For what?"

“For the whole I'm so Tired thing. You know... you can play whatever you want next time.”

“We’re doing this again?” Lance asked, eyebrow raised, as if he was actually _interested_ in the prospect of having Keith drive him around in the middle of the night. 

Well, shit.

“I dunno, man. Depends,”

“On what?”

“On whether you like indie chill-step or not.” Keith was smirking, and Lance had an unmistakably hopeful expression on him.

“Is it anything like the artist Petit Biscuit?”

Keith was already getting up and heading for the car, Lance done with the shake and following like a shadow, both eager to unlax to some [Sunset Lover.](https://youtu.be/4fQeaM62mOY)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, chapter 3 is here 🤷🏻 I wrote the whole thing in a day and haven't made FINAL edits yet but please let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> Also here's something important:  
if you've checked the tags, I've mentioned foreshadowing, and it's important to know that I do 90% of that foreshadowing through music. Keith and Lance will frequently project their emotions and feelings through the music they choose to play in the car. A majority of these songs will be lyric-specific, and much of the context within the chapters may also depend on these lyrics.  
I will link all the songs I mention, their YouTube links, and I strongly recommend that you listen to the music as you go along the fic, because the whole point of this is my trying to make it interactive in some manner. You will also feel the the fiction better that way, I think.  
thank you, and let me know if\when the links are or are not working.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first anything I've ever written so don't be too hard!  
I finished watching Voltron a couple weeks back (which is also the exact time it took me to watch it) and I instantly fell in love with the characters! I have my cowriter to thank for getting me into Voltron and having watched it finally allowed me to read all the klance fanfiction that's been written - and, eventually, paved way for me to write some too.  
I was on my way home from school when a small idea was spewing into the slimy cauldron that is my brain of what a peaceful klance au would look like if I executed it and.... here we are!  
the fiction -plot wise- doesn't build up to much, but klance does.  
all in all, I hope you all enjoy it. I also plan on making artwork for this once I'm done. you're all welcome to do so too! (if you even like it enough xD)
> 
> Tumblr: @dnps-things  
Instagram: @hiya_sin


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